


Not Covered by Our Insurance

by triedunture



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Frottage, M/M, Office, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triedunture/pseuds/triedunture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel drops into the Terrible Life illusion to try to persuade Dean to remain there, where it's safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Covered by Our Insurance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mercy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercy/gifts).



Dean leaned back in his chair and studied the man across the boardroom table. Cas Novak sat unmoving in his rumpled suit, tie askew, hair a mess. Between them, an untouched platter of fresh fruit and mini brie and turkey roll-ups. Dean tapped the cap of his Mont Blanc on the header of the contract set before him. 

"The terms are fair," he ventured. 

"From your point of view, yes, but I must refuse them. They are not in my client's best interests." Cas spoke quietly in a voice rough like a smoker's, and he seemed to maintain an unhealthy amount of eye contact. This guy was something else. No idle chatter about golf scores or weather with this one, oh no. Dean was beginning to think they'd never close this deal. 

Dean rubbed a hand across his tired face. "Look, we've been running in circles over these clauses all morning. Want to take a breather, clear our heads?" It was a tactic he'd used to great effect many times: get personal, get under the skin, then use that as leverage. 

Cas, though. He just tilted his head and frowned. "My head is fine. But perhaps you would benefit; you do not seem to understand me clearly." 

What was this guy, just a huge passive-aggressive dick? Or maybe he had one of those mental things, where you don't get what's inappropriate. Like that one guy on Boston Legal. Dean was in the process of deciding when Cas rose from the plush chair and turned his laser blue gaze out the plate glass window. 

"The weather is fair. Perhaps we should walk along the pier," he suggested. 

"Uh." This was not what Dean had been expecting. Drinks were the usual midday respite from negotiations, not traipsing along the waterfront in his three-piece suit. But shit, if his guest wanted to go for a walk, they'd go for a fucking walk.

"Sure. Absolutely."

Dean left instructions with his PA, clipped his Blackberry to his belt, found his sunglasses in his desk, and rode the elevator down with Cas. It was the first time in weeks he'd left the building during work hours. The sun was blinding, leaving him squinting away dark spots for long moments as they walked. In contrast, Cas seemed content to just squint. 

As they walked along the pavement leading up to the riverfront, giving the flocks of gulls pecking at trash a wide berth, Dean watched Cas from the corner of his eye. No wedding ring, he'd already noticed. Nice watch, nothing fancy though. And that trench was no Burberry. Why'd they send this mook to deal with him? 

"So, Cas," he cleared his throat, "how long have you been working in--?"

"Let's not discuss our professions," Cas interrupted. "Please."

"Um. Okay. What--?"

"You have a sister, correct?" Cas asked.

"Yeah. Jo. She's in school right now, doing engineering of all things." Dean smiled to himself, thinking of his little stick of a kid sister. She better be giving those boys hell at Stanford, he thought. "You?"

"I have many brothers and sisters. I come from a large family."

"Catholic, huh?" Dean didn't often touch on religion (or politics) when doing business, but this guy seemed eager to go off script. 

"Very." Cas gifted him with a small smirk. They strolled along the gangway, where Cas paused to lean his forearms against the rail and look out over the sailboats and kayaks moving through the bay. "Do you enjoy this place, Dean?"

Dean blinked at the reflection coming off the water and listened to the shrill calls of the seagulls and kids laughing. "To be honest, I don't get out here much. I try to get a few miles in on the treadmill every morning, but--"

"Try closing your eyes," Cas said. 

Dean stood there, staring stupidly from behind his Ray Bans. "What? Why?"

"Please, just try." Cas seemed so insistent, like this was really important. So Dean slipped the sunglasses into his breast pocket and closed his eyes with a little sigh, hands clutching the sun-warm rail. 

The sounds faded. The pounding sunlight on the backs of his eyelids seemed to lessen, like a cloud was passing overhead. The warm weight of Cas's hand brushed the back of his own, and when he spoke, Cas sounded like the rumble of an oncoming thunderstorm.

"This life is not so awful; there are birds in the sky and joyful children at play. You can see the river from your office window. You are comfortable. You are well-groomed."

"Thanks?" Dean mumbled. 

"Can you not find happiness here, Dean?" Cas's voice took on a desperate edge, his hand tightening on Dean's. "Can't you be at peace here?" 

Dean opened his eyes, completely convinced his next move was to get away from this weirdo and book it back to his office and lock the door. But something in Cas's eyes--and the way he spoke, like he knew about the empty hole Dean kept hidden inside--made him pause. 

"How do you know about--?" He didn't even know what to call it. The thing that was missing that he couldn't even name. 

"I just know," Cas murmured. The wind moved through his messy bed-hair, and Dean wondered if this was the thing he'd been missing all this time. Oh god, he wasn't going to get his two sub-clauses, was he? Because this guy, as strange as he was, was worth them. 

"Let's head back," Dean said, but when he turned to go, he squeezed Cas's hand in his. Cas didn't seem to mind, his fingers curling around Dean's, warm and dry, before releasing them. The elevator was empty when they stepped in from the lobby, and Dean felt no qualms palming Cas through the front of his navy slacks. 

"Oh--!" Cas startled. Dean smirked. As if the guy hadn't known what was coming; he was lucky Dean liked a little shyness. 

"Don't worry," he breathed in Cas's ear. "The cameras can't see anything from this angle. Plus I know the guy at the security desk. No big." He pushed up against Cas from behind, letting him feel his hardness under the Italian wool. 

"Dean, I don't know if..." Cas trailed off as Dean's hand snaked under his coat and tweaked at a nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Ah, no, please!"

"Hold on, baby. Only fifteen paces to my office from the elevator bay, and then we can have ourselves a closed-door discussion." 

"But I can't--" 

"We can, we can," Dean whispered, his eyes closing as he rutted against Cas's ass in a slow thrust. "You were right, Cas, we got to find our happiness. Life's too short. And you're too--" He cut himself off with a deep breath. No way was he going to slip up and say something stupid like 'beautiful.' "--You smell so good." He buried his nose in the nape of Cas's neck and inhaled the clean scent of cheap shampoo and skin. 

He shucked the ratty trench coat from Cas's shoulder and folded it over his arms just as the elevator doors dinged open. "There you go. Just like middle school, all right?" And with his own suit coat flung over his arm and shielding his erection from prying eyes, Dean strode the fifteen steps to his office, calling to his PA as they passed her desk, "Gorgeous day out there, Sandra, you should go outside for lunch!" 

Then it was slam-bang goes the office door, click-clack goes the lock, coats on the floor in a heap, and Cas pushed up against the wall right next to the print of the Brooklyn Bridge. All wide blue eyes and shocked pink mouth. God, he was too good to be true. 

"Dean," he gasped, "are you saying this would bring you happiness? Would you be content here, with me?" 

"What, like long-term?" Dean shoved his hips up against Cas's, fitting them together. "Little early for that to be on the table, don't you think?" Cas rolled against him, his hard dick straining against Dean's through their pants. "Jesus," Dean cursed, "keep doing that though and we'll talk."

"Like this?" Cas's hips stuttered again, his soft hands coming to rest on Dean's shoulders. Dean hummed and brushed a kiss over Cas's parted lips.

"Just like that, sweetheart. Oh my god." He burrowed against Cas's neck, licking and sucking at the pulse point throbbing under his mouth. 

Cas sucked in a breath, his left leg hitching up to rest on Dean's hip. "I--I've never--this isn't--"

"Yeah, me either, not my style. Wine and dine, maybe, but fuck." Dean couldn't stop grinding against the other man. Just like a couple of teenagers. And he was going to ruin this suit if he kept at it, but he didn't give a shit. He was hard and leaking and just wanted to rub against Cas until they both came.

The phone on his desk rang. A passing group of workers chatted on the other side of the door. The Brooklyn Bridge rattled against the wall. Cas gasped, clinging to Dean with a look of shock in his eyes. 

Dean curved a palm under Cas's thigh and hitched his leg higher, pressing them closer. "Gonna watch you come," he swore. "Come on, Cas."

"I feel--" Cas's gaze fastened on Dean's face, pure bliss. "I feel. Dean, I feel."

"Yeah you do," Dean grunted, thrusting ever faster. "Feel me against you, Cas? Feel good, am I making it good for you?" 

"Yes," Cas hissed, ducking his face against Dean's chest. But Dean wasn't having that, carding his fingers through that mussed hair and tugging Cas's head back up. He wanted a good look at those eyes. 

"Let go, baby, it's okay. I got you, come on," he muttered, his voice hitching along with his hips. One last final thrust and he was rewarded with Cas's low whimper of pleasure, a wet heat soaking through his trousers, his own cock twitching in his boxer briefs, releasing gobs of come to run down the inside of his thigh. "Holy mother of--" Dean pressed himself flush to Cas, holding them trembling against the wall. 

They stayed like that for a long moment, Dean's knees shaking like he's run a marathon, Cas panting into his ear. 

"That was wild," Dean finally murmured. 

"My limbs are wobbling," Cas said. 

"Right?" Dean grinned with more than a little pride. "Geez. Right?"

Spare suit hanging in the personal closet. A few moist towelettes for them both. Buttoning up Cas's coat for him to hide the worst of it. Fixing his tie for him with a slow smile. 

"Are you glad?" Cas asked, watching him. 

"Yeah," Dean said. "Think I might be."

They left the office thinking to return to the boardroom; Dean's ready to give Cas what he wants in the deal because, really, what's another .002% to the bottom line? It's the business relationship that matters, is what he'll tell his boss. 

His boss, who appeared in the hallway right outside Dean's door just as he and Cas step out. 

"Dean!" Zachariah rubbed his palms together and shot a look at Cas. "Is your phone working or what? I didn't know you were dropping by, Mr. Novak."

Cas stood straighter. "I am here on business." 

"Hm. Yes. Well, I think I'll take it from here, Dean. Mr. Novak and I have a lot to discuss yet."

"Actually, we were just getting ready to close--" Dean said. 

"Oh no, I really must catch up with him." Zachariah clamped a hand over Cas's arm. Cas swallowed, his eyes not leaving the floor. "Don't forget that memo, Dean. On my desk by EOD, if you please."

"Yes, sir," Dean said faintly. Then, more forceful, "I'll have Sandra set up lunch next week, okay, Cas? Tuesday good for you?"

"I'm afraid Cas will be out of town for the foreseeable future, isn't that right?" Zachariah flashed a shark smile. 

"Goodbye, Dean," Cas rasped, and allowed Dean's boss to lead him away. Dean stood in the doorway of his office, watching him go. And wondering if this life was worth it after all.


End file.
